Wednesday, August 17, 2005

The
year was 1944. Things weren't going well for the Germans. The western allies,
led by the United States and Russia, were on their way to victory. Hitler knew
he had to do something fast, anything, to turn the tide of imminent defeat.

At
a meeting with his Supreme Council, Hitler looked around the room, from person
to person, from General to General, his glassy-eyed stare penetrating their
souls. "What are you going to do?" "How will you prevent the
fall of the third reich?" "And what about me – how will I remain
leader of the German people?"

One
of the younger officers glanced at his leader, as if wanting to say something,
but quickly looked away. How could he, a junior officer, dare open his mouth in
front of the Fuehrer? But Hitler noticed the movement and jumped. "You,
you have an idea. What is it What do you suggest?"

Speaking in almost a whisper, the young officer began. "No, speak louder.
I want everyone to hear what you have to say. What is it?"

The
officer began again, his voice quivering, but speaking a little louder.
"Well, what is it the Third Reich has accomplished that all good Germans,
and many others around the world can support and appreciate?"

"What,
what do you mean," demanded Hitler.

"I
think we must use what is called 'public relations.' We must advertise
ourselves, we must publicize the good we are doing for mankind, showing all
people the positive aspects of our rule."

Hitler
looked puzzled. He thought to himself, "'Good?' – the 'good' we are doing
for mankind? – what is the definition of 'good.'" But then, suddenly he
understood. "Ah yes – they must believe that we are helping them, when
really, they are serving us. "Excellent.
So what do you suggest?"

"Well,
what is it all people can agree on – what service are we providing
mankind?"

All
looked at each other and then, down at the table, not daring to look towards
their leader. Again, the junior officer cleared his throat, and all looked at
him. "Yes, yes, what is it?"

"What
about the Jews?"

"The
Jews – what about the Jews?"

"Begging
your pardon, but don't all agree that the extermination of the Jews is a grand
service to the world. They have plagued our existence for much too long. Our
camps are purifying the world, ridding a malignant disease from our
planet."

"We
have seen no resistance, no attempts to destroy the camps, to stop the trains.
Our intelligence shows that the enemy is aware of the extermination, yet they
do not object. They haven't shown any inclination to prevent termination of the
Jews."

"Civilian
populations also know what is happening, yet they are turning a blind eye,
making believe that the stories are false, ignoring the facts."

"This
leads me to believe that an overwhelming majority of the human race supports
our efforts to bring an end to the existence of Jews. This being the case, we
must take advantage of world support, and prove to them that we will continue
down the same path following our victory over the west. We must show them that
our way is, simply and purely, better."

"Yes,
but how? What do you suggest?"

Well,
you know, the Americans and the Europeans are great fans of sport. They attend
mass sporting events and follow them in the cinema. Perhaps we could broadcast,
directly from the camps, showing the world exactly what we are doing, and
advertise our plans for the future. We could provide a list of the impurities
populating the world, and announce publicly, that one after another, they will
be 'taken care of,' just as we are doing to the Jews. Therefore no one will be
able to accuse us of clandestine activities – it will all be out in the open – and
it will be broadcast before the eyes of the world. I'm sure, that once people
all over the world see what we are doing, they will give us their full support.
The war will come to an immediate end and we will be victorious. The Third
Reich will live forever."

Hitler
scratched his head, looked from side to side, and then at the speaker.
"You mean, we should film the camps and publicize the movies?"

"Yes,
yes, it will be like a great sporting event. We can broadcast in the cinema and
on radio. Once our plan is known and advertised, the people of the world will
thank us. We will be victorious."

Hitler
looked around at the others sitting around the table. "What do you
think?" No one answered. "Well," Hitler said, "I think it's
a creative and unique idea, worth a try. However, I have one demand. I want to
be the announcer during the movie, describing what is happening, giving a full
explanation of each stage of the events."

The
meeting came to an end and most of the officers left the room. Hitler called
over a senior officer and asked him, "Tell me, who was that junior officer
with the excellent idea?"

Monday, August 8, 2005

On Sunday I made another trip down to Gush Katif for a very special day.
I wasn't disappointed.

My oldest daughter Bat-tzion, grew up together with a neighboring girl
named Merav, who lived two buildings away from us. They spent most of their
waking hours together, be it at school or at home. They were inseparable for
almost 18 years. Then, following high school, each went her own way, and it
wasn't long before Merav became engaged to a lovely man named Itamar. A few
years ago Merav and Itamar moved to Shirat HaYam, the small caravan-home
community, on the beach, not far from Neve Dekalim.

Last week Merav gave birth to her fourth child, her fourth boy. It was
decided to have the brit milah, the ritual circumcision, not far from their
home, in a small synagogue called Tiferet Yisrael. Tiferet Yisrael is a very
special place of worship.

Labeled an 'illegal outpost' by the 'authorities,' the building was
constructed about a week after Yom Kippur, some nine months ago. It was named
in memory of Tiferet Tratner, who was killed by an Arab missile the day before
Yom Kippur in Neve Dekalim, and First Sergeant, Yisrael Lutati, a Neve Dekalim
resident, who was killed by terrorists at the Morag community not too long
before Tiferet's murder. In English,
Tiferet means 'splendor,' so the synagogue's name means 'The Splendor of
Israel.' At this particular event, the
site was especially significant. Itamar built it.

I drove down to the Gush together with Itamar's brother Ariel, and his
wife and two of their children, who are Hebron residents. They had managed to
obtain the 'prized' permits allowing them entrance to Gush Katif, to attend the
family festivity. (I have a press pass, allowing me free access to the besieged
area.)

The trip was fairly smooth. We weathered the three checkpoints (the
first of which is at least 20 kilometers from the entrance to Gush Katif). At
each checkpoint you must show your ID card, or pass, and the obliging soldier,
officer or police officer checks his wireless screen to see if our name appears
in the right place. We had just passed the final inspection point and were
about 10 minutes from Tiferet Yisrael, when we came upon a short row of cars,
stopped in the middle of the road, with a closed barrier blocking the way. What
happened – what's the problem? We'd all passed the necessary checkpoints, so
why have to stop here? A soldier at the gate told us, "There's an 'event'
at Kfar Darom' so you cannot continue. "What kind of an event? Did
something happen there?" I heard an officer tell some of the soldiers,
"There is a terrorist alert on the Kissufim road – it has to stay
closed." Another soldier said, "It's a terror incident at Kfar
Darom."

I quickly called my friends there to find out what was happening. The truth
became clear instantly. The army decided to evacuate two security trailers from
the community, in preparation for its abandonment. The Kfar Darom population,
feeling that they were being deserted and that their security was being
compromised, took to the road and blocked the tractor-trailer's way, not
allowing them to leave the community. [http://www.israelnationalnews.com/news.php3?id=87332] In reaction to this protest, the army closed
the roads leading into and out of Gush Katif. So, we waited for about an hour.
Finally, when they let us through, we arrived at a second roadblock a few
minutes away. In the end, we made it to the synagogue. They were waiting for us
and for others, stuck in roadblock.

What mood would you expect to find Gush Katif residents in, a week
before the guillotine is supposed to fall? Sad, tense, nervous? Nothing of the
kind. The only emotions readily present were joy and happiness. After the brit,
there were several 'divri Torah,' words of Torah, including a very supportive
talk by Hebron-Kiryat Arba Chief Rabbi, Dov Lior. A couple of weeks ago Rabbi
Lior was denied permission to enter the Gush by the Shabak – Israeli
intelligence. However, they eventually relented. There was dancing and singing, the was any
good Jewish festivity should be. There wasn't even a whiff of despair.

What faith these people have.

There is also another part to this story. One very important person was
missing from the celebration. Nili (Nili bat Victoria), Merav's mother, is very
ill with cancer, and had to remain in the hospital in Jerusalem. My wife stayed
with her, and when the ceremony began, we broadcast the event to her over our
cell phones. That way, even if should couldn't be present, she could at least
hear the happiness. Despite this, cheerfulness reigned. The smiles on
everyone's faces told the story. [http://www.eretz.org/amitaibrit.htm].

Oh yes, I almost forgot, the baby's name is Amitai, which contains the
word (in Hebrew) Emet, which means truth. It also contains the initials of
Merav and Itamar's names, and also the initials of Tiferet Yisrael.

Yesterday I received a new song, written especially for current events.
It is posted as background music on the above-mentioned website, the opposite
of what we used to sing when protesting Russian oppression of Jews in the late
Soviet Union. Then we used to chant, "Let My People Go." Today, we
have to sing the reverse: "Let My People Stay." On Sunday, in Gush Katif, I certainly didn't
see anyone leaving.

Sunday, August 7, 2005

What do you expect would happen if you gave a child a loaded weapon?
Almost undoubtedly, at some point, the child would pull the trigger and the gun
would discharge. Anyone standing in front of the barrel would likely be hit.

Many years ago I read Sharon's autobiography, which so describes the
death of his first son, Gur. I haven't looked at the book in many years, and
have little inclination to seek it out. However, to the best of my
recollection, the way Sharon tells it, a friend have little Gur, (about 11
years old), an old rusty gun to play with. Little did he know that the weapon
contained a live bullet. I don't remember if Gur pulled the trigger, or if a
friend of his did so, but the result was that Gur was fatally wounded, and died
almost immediately. The incident was labeled 'an accident.'

But it's clear enough. If you put a gun in the hands of someone not
responsible for his actions, such as a child, tragedy is imminent. And those
responsible, whether their act was intentional or unintentional, are the people
who allowed the weapon to reach the little fingers of the little boy or girl.
The child cannot be held responsible for 'killing,' rather the parents or
anyone else who didn't take the necessary safety precautions.

A few months ago a 19-year old named Eden Natan-Zada was drafted into
the Israeli army, as are most young Israel men. Natan-Zada underwent the usual
proceedings, which includes a personal interview. For some reason, the
interviewer saw fit to send him to an additional interview, this time with an
army psychologist. That person, following the interview, recommended that Eden
Natan-Zada receive a psychological profile of 45, which would forbid him from
carrying a weapon, and that his military service be closely accompanied by an
army psychologist.

These recommendations were ignored. Natan-Zada began a regular army
basic training course, which, after a short period of time, he deserted.
According to his parents, they informed military police where their son was,
warned them, and pleaded with them, to find him and take his rifle from him.
These pleas went unheard. The result was Eden Natan-Zada's attack and murder of
four Arabs last Thursday.

Now, I ask you – who was responsible for Eden Natan-Zada's attack? This
young man, mentally unstable, who was 'marked' by military psychologists,
should never have handled a weapon. An automatic rifle should never have been
placed in his hands. The only real difference between Eden Natan-Zada and Gur
Sharon was their age. The result of Gur Sharon's loaded gun, was his own death.
The result of Natan-Zada's loaded gun was his own death, together with four
other people. Clearly, neither one of them should have had a gun, and clearly,
both of them should still be alive today. Clearly, the criminal negligence of
others led to the tragic results in both cases.

However, too many others, led by Israeli cabinet ministers and the
Israeli media, fail to understand simple facts of life. Israeli radio,
television and newspapers are full of vicious accounts of the 'Jewish
terrorist.' Eden Natan-Zada has been labeled a 'mechabel' – a terrorist, in
the same category as the worst of Jew murderers from Hamas, the Islamic Jihad,
Fatah, and others. What hypocracy!

Such an act clearly cannot be condoned. Shooting people is not a
solution to the problems faced by Israeli society, whether they be the
conflicts between Israelis and Israelis, or the conflict between Jews and
Arabs, between Israel and the Arabs. In fact, despite the fact that thousands
of Israelis are legally armed, (including most residents of Judea, Samaria and
Gaza), the number of Jews who have taken the law into their own hands is
miniscule. And this, despite the thousands of Jews attacked, wounded, maimed
and murdered by Arabs, year after year. However, random killing of innocent
people is wrong and perpetrators must be apprehended, tried and punished. Of
course, preferably such attacks should not occur in the first place.

But to compare a clearly mentally unstable 19-year old with bloodthirsty
terrorists, to label him a mechabel, is outrageous. Israeli hysteria reached
such proportions that: Defense Minister Mufaz forbad Natan-Zada's burial in a
military cemetery, Central Command General Yair Naveh forbade his burial
anywhere in Judea and Samaria, and the Rishon l'Tzion mayor, (where he had
lived and where his family lives), forbad his burial in that city. The funeral
should have taken place on Friday, but the family had no where to bury their
son (who too, was murdered by crazed, rioting Arabs.) The father, interviewed
on Israeli radio, was told on Friday afternoon, at the morgue, that 'the body
belongs to the state' and that 'he should leave before the police arrest him.'

Only this morning was an agreement reached, allowing the family to bury
their son, sometime today, in Rishon l'Tzion.

Clearly, Israeli politicians are standing on their heads in order to
appease the Arabs living in Israel. They are petrified that, due to the murder
of four Arabs by an Israeli, the entire Arab population will rise up and
revolt. This, in and of itself, isn't so bad. The problem is that it could
delay the planned expulsion/abandonment of Gush Katif and the northern Shomron.
Sharon wants to avoid that at all costs. According to media accounts, Sharon
himself called the families of the murder victims to personally console them. I
wonder - when was the last time Sharon called Jewish family members of murdered
Arab terror victims?

The other aspect, which was all but ignored until this morning, is the
fact that Eden Natan-Zada was murdered after being apprehended and neutralized
by Israeli police. Can you image the headlines in the Israeli daily press if… ARAB
MURDERED BY JEWISH EXTREMISTS FOLLOWING TERROR ATTACK. The Jewish victims would have been quickly
forgotten – all that would be spoken and written about would center on the
brutal, lawless, lynch of an Arab. FIND THE MURDERERS, INVESTIGATIVE
COMMITTEES, ADMINISTRATION DETENTION, EXTREMISTS, EXTREMISTS, EXTREMISTS. That's all we would have heard, were the case
reversed. This morning the media is starting, slowly, to relate to the issue.
During one radio interview it was stressed that the police would begin an
'investigation' because 'police were attacked, hit by rocks and had gasoline
poured on them.' They forgot to mention that the attacker himself was murdered
– that the police were 'unable' to prevent his killing.

There are those who are traveling back in a time tunnel to the days of
Yoram Skolnick, who shot and killed a captured terrorist who had planned on
killing children in a Hebron Hills regional school. Skolnick spent many years
in jail. But we need not go back so far.
What about the supposed 'lynch' of an Arab a few weeks ago, in Gush
Katif. Shimshon Cytrin is being accused of attempted murder, etc. etc. when it
crystal clear that just about everything attributed to him did not happen.

This is the classic Israeli double standard. Kick yourself as hard as
you can, even though you don’t deserve it, and 'make nice' to the enemy,
appease him, and maybe he'll leave you alone. Or at least, he won't take
revenge. As if they need any excuses.

These events – Natan-Zada, Gush Katif and the Northern Shomron, Cytrin,
and other such atrocities are all symptoms of the sickness which has invaded
our collective body, and is eating at us from inside. Eden Natan-Zada was not a
terrorist – he was a victim of real terror – terror initiated by Ariel Sharon
and his cronies. They are responsible for the last week's attack – they are the
essence of the cancer destroying the State of Israel. They are the real
terrorists.

Thursday, August 4, 2005

I usually look forward to Shabbat. It's the end of the week, a good time
for a break, meaningful Sabbath prayers, usually at Ma'arat HaMachpela, tasty
meals, a little more sleep than usual, some time with the family – a
spiritually fulfilling experience.

But this week, I'm not so sure – no, I'm sure Shabbat will be all of the
above. But it's going to be difficult to compete with last week's Shabbat.
Early last week our good friends, the Sudris, Noam and Tali, invited us to
spend the weekend with them. "Sure," we answered, "why
not?" We really wanted to go. The Sudris live in Kfar Darom, in Gush
Katif.

They began the process of obtaining the despicable 'permits' necessary
to get into Gush Katif. But it quickly became clear that it wasn't going to be
so easy. For it was decided that only 'immediate family members' would be
privileged to receive the 'prized' "OK- you're allowed in." The
community's general secretary kept calling and sending faxes to the 'permit
office,' but was consistently refused. Thursday night, Friday morning, still no
permits. What should we do?

Following an informal family consultation we decided. We are going,
permits or not. My wife cooked extra food (we were taking some with us), just
in case we showed up back home at the last minute. How were we going to get
into the Gush? We didn't know. But we didn't care. I called Noam and set up all
sorts of contingency plans (take a neighbor's car, bring your wife's ID card,
and try to get my wife and kids through the checkpoint). And we were off. Three
kids in the back, me and my wife in the front, one thirty in the afternoon.
About a half hour later Noam called back. They finally granted us the permits.
We wouldn't have to play 'let's pretend' to get into Gush Katif. We just had to
promise to leave Saturday night. The community general secretary promised. (I
think we were a little disappointed – it would have more fun to get in fooling
them.)

The checkpoints really are despicable. There used to be three of them,
but one was removed. A soldier or policeman demands a picture ID, looks you up
on his wireless computer device and then does a head count and calls roll of
everyone in the car. We just ignored him. Not really. We tried to make him feel
guilty. And I thing he did.

(This is the place for a 'short story.' I know someone who drove down to
the Gush with several of his children (all of whom had permits), and another
passenger who didn't have one. When they were stopped, and a soldier began
checking the permits, a policewoman looked into the car and asked the driver,
"who's that in the back seat?" He answered, "my children."
She said, "yeah, I know, but who's THAT," pointing at the other
passenger, a thirty year old man with a big beard. Without turning around, the
driver responded, "my kids are in the back." The policewoman smiled
and continued, "I know, but him, by the window, THE ONE WITH THE
BEARD?" The driver looked at her, and said, "how old do you think I
am? I'm really much older than I look." With that, he put his foot on the
gas and drove off continuing to Gush Katif.)

The second checkpoint is at the entrance to Kissufim, and it's also
really disgusting . You go through the same thing again. (However, here too,
all sorts of interesting games are played. I heard from a pretty good source
about how a soldier stopped a full car, looked inside, and just checked the
driver's ID, without asking who everyone else was. Then he looked in the back
and said, "Wow, you've got a lot of bags back there." Then he opened
the car's trunk, glanced inside and exclaimed, "Will you look at that –
there's a child back here!" He then closed the trunk and told the driver
to go ahead, into the Gush.)

When we arrived in the Gush we first went to collect my son, who is
studying at one of the Yeshivas in the area and then went to visit friends from
Hebron who are living in several of the Gush Katif neighborhoods. One house has
six or seven families living in it. At Shirat HaYam, about fifty families live
in tents, on the sand, about 20 meters from the Mediterranean Sea. They all
share a small communal outdoors kitchen, burner, sink, refrigerator and a
couple of bathrooms and showers. During the day it is very hot, so the tents are
virtually off-limits. They all perch under a huge black awning which offers
protection from the sun and 'houses' picnic tables which serve as a place to
eat, play, sit around and chat, etc.

Late in the afternoon we made our way to Kfar Darom. We were lucky
enough to receive an apartment for Shabbat. After settling down and getting
ready for Shabbat, we walked to the new synagogue, a few minutes away.

What can I say? The place was packed. The synagogue was dedicated only a
few months ago, and has room for many more people than then lived at Kfar
Darom. But last Shabbat there wasn't enough room for everyone to sit. Several
yeshivas have made Kfar Darom their new home. And there must have been well
over 100 guests, like us, just for Shabbat. And Kfar Darom has a new 'tent
neighborhood' too. There must be at least 25 to 30 families living in tents, on
the lawn, on the north side of the community. How they do it, I don't know.
Living in one of the Kfar Darom homes for a day, without an air conditioner is
almost impossible. It gets really hot there. Living in a tent, in that kind of
weather? For two, three, four weeks? Unbelievable dedication.

Friday night Shabbat services in Hebron, at Ma'arat HaMachpela, are
usually really special. But these prayers, a Kfar Darom, were about as
spiritually uplifting as you can get. What would you expect to hear from people
at a community due to be booted out of their homes in a couple of weeks?
Funeral dirges? Well, I'm just sorry I couldn't record the singing last Friday
night. And in truth, a recording wouldn't due justice to the spirit. It was
something from another world. Words that you say week after week, year after
year, take on a wholly new significance. From Psalm 92: "It is a good thing to give thanks unto
the L-RD, and to sing praises unto Thy name…To declare Thy lovingkindness in
the morning, and Thy faithfulness at night."

Why faith at night? It's no real test to speak of faith when all is rosy, when
the lights are shining. But when all is dark and black, when it seems all hope
is lost – that's when we sing songs of praise of faith to G-d.

"When the wicked spring up as the grass, and when all the workers of
iniquity do flourish; it is that they may be destroyed for ever."

No commentary is necessary.

The joyous singing continued on and on, a subliminal expression of
unshakable faith, reaching the very foundations of our being.

The rest of the Shabbat continued in the light of those evening prayers,
a tremendous manifestation of belief and trust in the Divine. It was an
extraordinary spiritual high, a perhaps once-in-a-lifetime lesson in commitment
to a sacred ideal.

Later, Shabbat being over, we plummeted rather fast, from the holy to
the profane. It's not enough to get checked entering Gush Katif. You also have
to identify yourself as you leave. One poor woman was standing in the midst of
officers and police, crying, saying that she wanted to go home. But they WOULDN'T
LET HER OUT of Gush Katif. It seems that her name didn't appear on the magic
screen list. Unbelievably amazing.

This week, as not too long ago at Netivot and Kfar Maimon, we went to
Sderot and Ofakim. The scenes were pretty much the same: Tens of thousands of
protesters and tens of thousands of police and soldiers, speeches, sleeping in
tentS, in cars, on the ground, sweating in the sun, listening to instructions,
'what to do next,' confrontation with the security forces, going back home. This week's adventures. Another week to go.
What will next week have in store for us?

Sderot, site of this week's huge protest rally, means in English,
'avenues.' Ofakim, site of the park where we slept and spent the day, means
'horizons.' Different people have
different avenues – roads which lead in different directions. So too, it seems,
with horizons; we each see something else at the end of the rainbow. Every once in a while you might wonder what
the other side experiences, which road they take, and what they see, far in the
distance, what is in their horizon?

I know, for sure, that there are some walking backwards, heading into a
dead-end. They have no horizon, for in order to view a horizon, you must look
forward. They are looking in the other direction, down and back. Our 'sderot'
are lined with roots reaching into the depths of the earth, into the depths of
our essence, individually and as a people. Our 'ofakim' are white lights so
pure, so bright, that they are all-encompassing, embracing us with warmth, hope
and love.

About Me

David Wilder began working with the Jewish Community
of Hebron in 1994. He served as the English spokesman for the community for 21
years, granting newspaper, television and radio interviews internationally. He has
written hundreds of columns, posted on internet and appearing on websites and
in newspapers around the world. He
published a booklet of questions and answers about Hebron, titled, “Breaking the Lies.” Additionally he has acted in the capacity of community photographer
for over 17 years. He has published several ebooks of his photographs and
articles, available on Amazon. His blogs on the Jerusalem Post and at IsraelNational News have been read by over a half a million people.

Presently executive director of Eretz.Org, David represents
and assists several organizations, including the Neve Avraham ChildrenTreatment Center in Kiryat Arba-Hebron. He continues to conduct tours of
Hebron's Jewish Community and speaks to numerous groups in Hebron. He occasionally
travels abroad, speaking at various functions, explaining the true realities of
today's Israeli-Arab He is also a popular lecturer in Hebron, dealing with
diverse groups, including interfaith delegations, from around the world.

David Wilder has been in Israel for 40 years. He is
married to Ora, a ‘Sabra,’ for 36 years. They lived in Kiryat Arba for 17 years
and have resided at Beit Hadassah in Hebron for seventeen years. They have
seven children, five of whom are married and have many grandchildren.